Chapter 1 -
"You're sure you want to do this?" My best friend's overly feminine voice asked me for what seemed like the millionth time since I walked through the doors of the nightclub where he worked.
"No, I'm not sure, Gabe, but I have to. So, stop asking me before you make me change my mind and I go running out of here like the chicken shit we both know I really am," I snapped at him.
He never took my dramatics too personally because he gave just as good as he got.
"And you're really willing to just give up your V-card to a total stranger?" His incessant questioning was really beginning to grate on my last nerve. But, I knew it was just because he loves me and wants to be sure that I've considered everything. We had gone over all the pros and cons with a fine tooth comb and I really don't think we missed anything, but the unknown is what worried me the most.
"In exchange for my mother's life? Seems like a small price to pay," I said as I followed him down the dark corridor that led to the underbelly of the club where he worked. That's where my life changed. It was the point of no return.
My mother, Renee, was terminally ill. From birth she had always had a weak heart and it had progressively gotten worse over the years. She nearly died while giving birth to me, still she bounced back from that and numerous other operations and countless procedures. There was no bouncing back now. Her light was fading entirely too fast.
She was so weak and frail at this stage in her nearly non-existent life that my father, Charlie, had to quit his job to stay home and take care of her. I know what you're thinking, and yes, Hospice would have been a pretty good idea…But, my father couldn't stand the thought of a stranger taking care of his beloved in his place. There just was no convincing him otherwise. So, he took the task upon himself. Of course quitting his job meant that he could no longer carry health insurance. With my mother's illness and my father being out of work, we were forced to live off the meager savings account he had managed to tuck away. So, purchasing health insurance was a luxury my parents could not afford.
Renee's illness had progressed to the point that a heart transplant was essential in order for her to continue living.
I've watched my father day in and day out. Physically, he was losing weight; his primary concern for his wife overshadowing his own care. And the shadows and bags under his red eyes made it obvious that he wasn't getting as much sleep as he should either. But, he always put on a brave face for my mother. She had accepted her imminent demise, but my father…he still held out hope. The problem was that his hope was diminishing bit by bit every day. It was killing his very soul to watch her die a little more each day. I think a piece of him went with every little piece of her.
I had walked in on him one night after my mother was fast asleep. He was slumped over in his recliner, head in hands and shoulders heaving from his disheartened sobs.
No one was meant to see him that way. But I did.
I had never seen him so despondent. There was just this nagging feeling that tugged at my heart constantly that told me that when my mother dies, my father wouldn't be far behind. He would literally mourn himself to death. There was no doubt in my mind.
I had to do something. I was desperate to make this better. To make them better.
Gabe was my best friend. My very flamboyantly gay best friend. I had always shared everything with him, so he was wholly aware of the situation. Desperate times called for desperate measures, and after seeing just how desperate I had become, he finally told me about the more scandalous business that was being conducted beneath the nightclub.
James, the owner of said nightclub, was what one might call an aggressive entrepreneur. I called him a blood sucking douchebag pimp, or Satan for short. Basically, he's running a slave trade. Now I know what you're thinking, but I'm talking about a different form of slave; a sex slave. Regardless, one is just as bad as the other in my book.
From what I understand, some of the women, myself included, are doing this voluntarily while others owe James in some way and selling themselves was their last ditch effort to repay him.
Like I said, BLOOD SUCKING DOUCHEBAG PIMP.
God, he makes me sick.
Gabe told me that the clients were always men with more money than they knew what to do with. It was pot luck; I could end up with someone gracious and kind, or a total tyrant who enjoyed dominating his property. If history was any indication, I'd end up with the latter. I hadn't exactly had the best of luck in my life, so why should I believe the Powers That Be would grant me any favors now?
My mother's illness hadn't only required the constant attention of my father, but of me as well. It's not like I'm resentful of it, but it meant that I got a late start after high school. Instead of going to college, I stayed home with her so that my father could work. But, things had gotten so bad that he couldn't stand to be away from her any longer, not to mention they both really felt like they were holding me back. They weren't. I still hadn't made up my mind about what I wanted to do with my life anyway. You'd think a twenty-three year old would have her shit together, but no, not really.
It might have been a pretty shitty move on my part, getting their hopes up and all, but like I said, hope is something that was lacking in my household and it certainly couldn't hurt to give them a little. So, I managed to successfully convince my mother and father that I had scored a super sweet all expense paid scholarship to NYU. Yes, I know that's not something that's likely to happen so late in my life, but they didn't know, and that made all the difference in the world. Being so far away from home meant that I wouldn't be able to visit as often, and as much as it pained me to be away from my dying mother for so long, it was absolutely necessary for my plan to work. If I was lucky, I'd be able to drag it out a while longer. But you remember what I said about my luck, right?
Yeah, I wasn't holding my breath.
The deal I made with James, aka blood sucking douchebag pimp, was that I would agree to live with my "owner" for a period of five years. No more, no less. After that, I would finally be free to live my own life again. Exactly what sort of life that would be at that point was yet to be determined, but I had decided to remain positive. Regardless, five years of my life was a small price to pay to ensure any amount of time for my mother, and ultimately, my father as well.
"Name?" A dark-skinned gentleman with dreadlocks and a clipboard asked as Gabe and I reached the end of the dimly lit corridor.
"Groves. Isabella Groves," I choked out nervously even though I had stuck my chin out to create the illusion that I was anything but.
The bass coming from the club music upstairs was pulsing through the walls and essentially taking over my heart beat, but I tried desperately not to wish that I was up there partying instead of standing where I was. All those people were up there drowning themselves in booze and good times, and they had no clue about the sordid outfit that was going on right under their feet. The women down here were drowning in something completely different.
Dreadlock dude flipped the top sheet up to look at the one beneath it as if it were some kind of guest list for an elite club. This place certainly was not for the elite socialites of Seattle. He grinned when I assumed he found my name and then looked back at me. His eyes roamed up and down my body before settling on my face again. It was when his lips curled up into a disgusting leer and he began to lick them, in a way he apparently thought would be seductive but just wasn't, that I just about lost my nerve.
"Don't you look good enough eat?" he asked with a thick Caribbean accent as he ran his calloused fingers up and down my arm. "I might just have to throw in a couple of bids on your auction myself. And a virgin too? My, my, my…"
"Hands off the merchandise, Marley, before I have to pull every single stitch of nasty ass pubic hair out your head," Gabe said, coming to my rescue and smacking the pervert's hand away. "You couldn't afford her on your pay, and you know it. Now, where's Jamie?"
"He's busy and he doesn't want to be disturbed," he answered and then looked back at me. "But, he'll make an exception for you. You're going to make him a very wealthy man this evening."
"Oh, I'm sure she will, and I hope he chokes on every last red cent of it too," Gabe said, rolling his eyes. "Now, save the damn dramatics and just tell us where he's currently molesting innocent girls."
"Last door on the right," he said, pointing his clipboard in the same direction. "And Gabriel, you might want to get that mouth of yours under control before you find yourself jobless and out on the street."
"Whatev," Gabe scoffed and waved him off with a flick of his wrist.
We stepped around dreadlock dude and made our way past the crowd of women that lined the hallway. They were an assorted bunch, but mostly they looked sick and disease ridden. There were a couple of exceptions. Some of them didn't look any older than eighteen; innocent eyes, unmarred skin…a reflection of me at that age. Hell, probably still even to this day. It was sad and I wanted to grab them all and make a beeline for the exit. I can't even imagine what might have happened in their lives to lead them to this place, to do what they were about to do. But, I'm sure each one had her own story, just like I had mine.
Each one had a number taped to their stomachs and they were standing in front of a mirror that lined the wall on the opposite side.
"Two-way mirror," Gabe explained. "Each client who comes in has a write-up on every girl up for sale tonight. They're herded in here like cattle and put on display for the freak-a-zoids that, for whatever reason, can't seem to get laid on their own and have to stoop to this level."
"Gee, thanks, Gabe. That doesn't make me feel like shit at all."
"Oh, sweetie. You know I don't mean it like that," he said, trying to make me feel better. "You're way too good for this sort of thing, and you know it. You're not them," he said, motioning toward the other women in the hall. "But I get it. You're doing it for Renee and that has to be the most selfless thing I've ever heard of."
And those other women could very well have their own Renee at home.
We reached the end of the hall and Gabe knocked on the door. A voice yelled for us to come in, but when Gabe backed out of the way and motioned toward the entrance, I panicked. Full on hyperventilation was only moments away, I swear.
"Sweetie, look at me," Gabe said, forcing me to face him. "You don't have to go in there. We can turn around right now and walk out of this hell hole."
"No, we can't," I said, tremors racking my body no matter how hard I tried to steady my nerves.
"I can't go in there with you. You're on your own from here on out," he said with a hint of regret and worry.
I nodded my understanding and ducked my head so that he wouldn't see the tears beginning to well up in my eyes.
Gabe abruptly hugged me to his chest and practically squeezed the air from my lungs. "You can do this. Hell, maybe you'll actually get some good sex out of this. You just never know. Don Juan might be on the other side of that mirror just waiting to sweep you off your feet."
"Ha! Not likely," I scoffed and managed to smile a little before backing out of his safe embrace. "I'll be okay. You just make sure that the jerk that ends up with me follows through on our deal, or I expect you to send the FBI in here with guns ablazin'."
"Girl, you already know it. And, you know the digits, so you be sure to call me with status reports, or I'm coming after you. I have to get back to the bar now before I lose my job and the inside scoop on you. But remember that I heart you hard, bitch," he said, kissing my cheek. "Give 'em hell, Belly Bean." And then he swatted me on the ass and turned to walk away.
"I heart you, too, Gabe," I said under my breath because he was already out of earshot.
I turned toward the door, psyching myself up to turn the knob before I lost my nerve and backed out. The second I opened it, I wanted to slam it back again and take off running.
Right in front of me was a man with long, greasy blonde hair that was tied back in a ponytail, mercilessly pounding his hips into some poor, sobbing girl from behind. His pants were around his ankles, his shirt still on and he was grunting with each thrust of his hips that smacked against the woman's ass while he held her roughly by the hair of her head.
Blood sucking douchebag pimp…
"This'll…just take…a minute," he grunted, not even bothering to stop fucking the woman.
With one final slam, he threw his head back and growled out some undecipherable profanities. The girl sobbed uncontrollably and rubbed at her head where he had been holding her hair. James only laughed at her between his pants and I wanted to do a Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon leap across the room and claw his goddamn eyeballs out.
When his breathing was somewhat normal again, he slapped the girl on the ass and said, "Get the hell out, Bree. And don't bother coming around here begging for money again. You're pussy's not good enough to use as collateral anymore."
The girl scrambled to her feet and hurriedly picked up her clothes before darting out the door buck naked. As she ran by me with her head ducked, I could see black mascara smeared down her face and the look of shame in her eyes.
That will not be me. That will not be me, I chanted to myself over and over again.
I turned back to James, appalled by what I had just witnessed and even more so that he wasn't the least bit averse to my seeing it.
"You're disgusting!" I sneered at him, not even embarrassed by the fact that he was slipping the condom off his dick and tossing it into the trashcan before tucking his dick back in his pants right in front of me.
"I'm disgusting?" He started, his voice raising an octave as he looked at me incredulously. "You're about to sell yourself to the highest bidder, and I'm disgusting? That's rich," he scoffed and then grabbed a cigarette from his desk and lit it.
I wasn't about to get into the difference between what I was doing and what he just did. There is no comparison. I'm doing it to save my mother's life, and he does it out of greed and a complete lack of morals. Case closed.
"Can we please just discuss the terms of my contract?" I said with a sigh, but kept my distance from him anyway. I didn't trust him, and with good reason. Because seriously, how can someone trust a louse like him? If I had any other alternatives, I certainly wouldn't be sitting here right now.
"Right," he said, sitting at his desk and opening a vanilla folder with my name written in bold black letters across the top. "I can personally guarantee that the clientele for this evening will have no issue with discretion. In fact, it's pretty much a pre-requisite of theirs. They're the big ballers, the elite league of gentlemen…a real no-nonsense sort with more money than they know what to do with. Their reason for being interested in the type of merchandise that I deal in is their own, and I don't pry as long as they're paying me the big bucks."
The only solace I took in agreeing to this, other than the fact that I'd be saving my mother's life, was that I knew someone with enough pull could guarantee the payout required to make sure my mom got the surgery she needed and keep their mouths shut about it in the process. No one with that much money wants the world to know that they're involved in a sleazy operation like this. And I most certainly didn't want my parents to find out about what I was doing. That knowledge alone would be enough to send them to their graves, thereby totally negating what I was trying to do for them.
The other perk was that hopefully anyone who could afford to do this, would also be refined enough not to make my life a total living hell. I'm not naïve. I know there are some twisted people out there with some sick fetishes, but I was hoping nonetheless.
"I assume you're still cool with my twenty percent cut?" he asked, shuffling the papers.
"Um, nice try. We agreed on ten percent," I said, not one bit amused by his attempt to hustle me.
"Right, right. Ten percent. That's what I meant," he said, giving me a wink that made my skin crawl. Then he pushed the contract across the desk and handed me a pen. "Just sign here…and here."
I scrawled my messy signature across the lines where he indicated, fully aware that I was signing the next five years of my life away. But again, it was a small price to pay.
Shortly after, I was ushered into another room where I was told to strip down and put on the most degrading piece of cheesecloth bikini that I've ever seen. It really left nothing at all to the imagination, which I gathered was probably the point in this type of auction. The men wanted to see what they were paying high dollar for. I got it, but it didn't make me feel any less exposed and vulnerable.
After that, James secured lucky number 69 to my stomach, exaggerating his movements so that he could skim his slimy fingers over one of my breasts, while his other hand dipped lower than what was necessary to "brush the wrinkles out of the sign." I swear, one more second and I was about to knee him in the nards, probably ensuring a free pass to a few innocent girls along the way for at least a couple of days. Part of me actually wished he'd try to cop another free feel.
I kept my head held high as I joined the other women in front of the two-way mirror. What sucked most about this was that while God only knows who, or what, on the other side of the mirror could see me, I couldn't see them. What I could see though was myself. I'm not conceited by any means, but I had to admit that I looked good compared to the other women.
I had never considered myself drop dead gorgeous, but I was decent looking. My hair was long and thick. My eyes weren't anything special; plain brown, but once upon a time they had been full of life. That was before my mother's illness took a turn for the worse. I wasn't all that spectacular in the body department, but I wasn't too fat or too skinny and had curves in what I always thought were the right places. All in all, not bad.
One by one, the women were pulled out of the room and at first; I thought it meant they were being chosen over me and I sort of felt like the fat kid in gym class that was always the last one to be picked. But then they called my number and I made my way toward the same black door I had seen the others before me disappear through. Once I stepped inside, I was led to the center of the room. All around me, there were smaller rooms with glass walls. In each one there was one dimly lit table lamp with a telephone and a chair with one occupant inside.
The first room was occupied by a sheik with dark sunglasses, a long white head dress and a business suit. Two of the women that had been in the hallway with me earlier were on either side of him, showering him with kisses while rubbing on his crotch and chest. I diverted my attention in embarrassment, only to be faced with a man in another room.
This one was huge, like big as a house huge. He reminded me a lot of Jabba the Hutt and a picture of Princess Leia chained next to him flashed across my mind and a shiver ran down my back. I think I may have even thrown up a little bit in my mouth. I had never been one to imagine myself as Princess Leia as a child and I most certainly wasn't going to start now.
In the room next to him, there was this tiny little Asian guy with two huge body guards that stood next to him. Their hands were crossed in front of them, and I imagined that was probably the most they had come to ever being relaxed. The little guy had his legs crossed all dainty like and was sipping on some fruity sort of drink with an umbrella sticking out of it. His white jacket casually hung over his shoulders like he was just too cool to stick his arms through it. I'm guessing Gabe was more his type. I can't imagine he'd be that threatening to be around. He was probably there to score some pretty young thing to keep up the pretenses with the public eye, while secretly sneaking someone in the back door…literally.
Come out of the closet already, little man.
I looked toward the last room and sighed inwardly when I saw that the light was out. Apparently whoever had been in there had already made their selection and left, which didn't give me much hope with the remaining assortment. Come on, little gay man.
And then a small orange light flickered from the darkened room like the fire on the end of a recently puffed cigarette. I looked closer and could faintly make out the lines of a body sitting casually in the chair. The figure leaned forward a bit to readjust his position, granting me a better look at him, but not enough to be able to make anything out.
"Gentlemen," James said with a clap of his hands as he came to stand behind me. "This is the lovely, Isabella Groves, item number 69 on our list tonight. I believe you have all her specs, but allow me to highlight some of her finer attributes.
"First and foremost, she has come to us of her own accord, so you won't have to worry about her trying to run away from you. Obviously, she's not bad too look at, which can make life a whole helluva lot easier for those of you who require a partner to attend social functions. She's young, but not too young, so your friends and family will find it more believable that you have a traditional type of relationship, if that sort of thing is important to you. She's educated and well-mannered, has all her teeth and is in good health. And, there's no drug problem to be bothered by, which means no detox period to hold you back from what you really want to be doing with her and to her.
"And probably the most valuable asset of all is that her innocence is still completely intact. This, my fine gentlemen, is a grade A virgin; unsullied, untouched…pure as the fresh fallen snow. Perfect to train, no? With that said, let's start the bidding at $500,000 and may the luckiest bastard win," James said with a huge, fake smile as he turned and winked at me and then stepped off to the side.
The platform that I stood on in the middle of the room began to move, and although it wasn't exactly on warp speed, it still caught me unaware and I stumbled a little before I regained my balance. Around and around I went while the bidding process began. There were no audible sounds of voices, just the occasional buzz as the light over one of the doors would illuminate. I could see the men pick up the telephone beside them and speak into the receiver before the light would go off, so I assumed this was their method of placing bids.
I had no idea how much the bid was up to at this point. I'd just hoped that it ended with enough to pay for Renee's surgery. After a while, the sheik and the tiny gay oriental guy dropped out, leaving Jabba the Hutt and Mystery Man to battle it out. Sure, I had no idea what Mystery Man looked like, but he had to be better than drowning in a pool of Jabba the Hutt sweat.
The bidding between the two of them slowly began to dwindle down and I was becoming increasingly dizzy from spinning around on the platform. In truth, I just wanted it to be over with so that I would know my fate and could get on with this shit. Secretly, I was still rooting for the mysterious stranger even though I was scared shitless.
Jabba the Hutt's light was the last to flash on and I knew the bid was back to Mystery Man, but he wasn't answering the bid. I was starting to panic when James came back into the room and stood next to me. He smiled at Jabba and then cast a questioning brow in Mystery Man's direction. I knew it would be obvious by the look in my eyes that I was pleading with him, and I had no clue whatsoever if it would make a rat's ass difference to him one way or the other, but I had to try.
The seconds ticked by agonizingly slow. Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion in fact, and I felt light headed and dizzy. I knew that I was going to pass out at any moment if I didn't get some much needed oxygen to my brain, but I was holding my breath, praying that Mystery Man would come through for me and that I wouldn't regret willing him to be the winner.
"It looks like we have a win-" James started, but abruptly stopped in his tracks when the light above Mystery Man's room lit up and the buzzer sounded.
I sucked in a much needed breath, feeling my brain tingle with the life-giving sensation. My head shot toward Jabba the Hutt and I sighed in relief when he shook his head and waved his hand dismissively in the air before struggling to push out of his chair and extinguishing the light on the table.
"You have a new owner, Miss Groves," James cooed a little too closely to my ear. "Why don't you walk on over and meet your master?"
"I'm not calling him master," I seethed loud enough for only him to hear me as I stepped down from the platform.
"You'll call him whatever he wants you to call him if you want the cool million he just paid for your hot little ass," he retorted, grabbing my elbow and guiding me toward Mystery Man's room. "Well, nine hundred grand, after my cut of course."
"He paid a million dollars for me?" I asked, astounded. I tried to yank my elbow out of his grip because his manhandling was not part of the deal and he was really pissing me off. However, he grabbed me again, firmer this time, and pulled me forward.
"What? Not enough? Greedy little thing, aren't you?" he stated rather than asked. Then he opened the glass door to Mystery Man's room and entered with me in tow and without giving me a chance to respond.
The odor of cigarette smoke attacked my olfactory senses, but strangely, I wasn't repulsed.
"Miss Isabella Groves," James introduced me to the figure still shrouded in darkness. "Congratulations on your win, Mr. Bieber. I have a feeling she'll be well worth every penny."
"Have the contract sent to my address," a deep sultry voice said from the shadows. The cherry on the end of his cigarette blazed again and lit up his features minutely before he disappeared again. "And take your hands off my property for Christ's sake. I'm not paying for damaged goods."
James released his hold on me immediately and I rubbed at the spot on the back of my arm, just knowing there was going to be a bruise by morning.
"As you wish," James said, bowing unceremoniously. "Take your time with the room, but be careful, she's a feisty one."
A disgusting laugh bellowed from James that made my skin crawl and then he backed out of the room, leaving me alone with the man that owned me for the next five years of my life. I wasn't really sure what I was supposed to do, so I just stood there awkwardly.
Just when I thought he might actually be planning on the two of us staying there for the duration of the five years, he finally sighed and butted his cigarette. The light suddenly clicked on, momentarily blinding me because my eyes had become accustomed to the dark. When they had adjusted again, I looked at him.
My stomach flipped and I swear I think my heart skipped a beat…or two…maybe three.
He was gorgeous, not at all what I expected. And I was having a really hard time not ogling him. He simply sat there smirking as I took him in. He was dressed in a tailor-made Armani suit, black on black. He wasn't wearing a tie and the top buttons of his shirt were unbuttoned to reveal his collar bones and a brief peek at a sculpted, but hairless chest. My eyes finally followed the tight tendons of his neck to his prominent jaw, shadowed with the beginnings of a well-groomed beard. His lips were succulent and the perfect shade of deep pink, his nose straight and perfect and his eyes…my God, his eyes…Never had I seen a brown that intense, or a man with lashes that long. Light brown hair shot out in different directions on top of his head, and I had come to the conclusion that I probably wasn't the only purchase he'd made tonight because someone had definitely had their fingers tangled in those silken locks.
As if reading my mind, he raised his hand and raked his long fingers through the mess. Whether in aggravation at my ogling or out of habit, I had no idea, but it was sexy as hell nonetheless.
I started to question why someone who looked like him would need to go to the extreme of purchasing a companion when he could obviously have anyone he wanted. But then, he opened his mouth and reminded me that this was no fairytale encounter and things were expected of me; things I had to do whether I wanted to or not.
"Well, let's see if you're worth it," he said with a sigh as he undid his pants and pulled his massive dick out.
I looked at him dumbfounded because surely he didn't expect me to lose my virginity to him in this shithole of a place like this. I mean, I know I'm his property now, but…really?
"On your knees, Isabella. Or the deal is off and you can go home with the lard ass in the other room. He really seemed to want you," he said with a sexy smirk while he stroked his glorious cock with one hand. "Now, show me your appreciation."
Problem number one…I had never given a blow job in my entire life.
